


No Limits (Just Epiphanies)

by nerdwegian



Series: Tumblr Prompts [29]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Blow Jobs, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, Unsafe Sex, hooker!Clint, tipsy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:51:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdwegian/pseuds/nerdwegian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How's business?" Phil asks, which immediately makes Clint smirk at him just because he can.</p><p>"The hooking business?" he asks.</p><p>Phil doesn't take the bait. "Yes, the hooking business," he says easily, voice free of judgment as always.</p><p>(Tumblr prompt: prostitute/client au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Limits (Just Epiphanies)

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed (for now). I apologize.

Natasha is deep in conversation with Pepper when Clint shows up, so she barely acknowledges him with a quick nod and a, "Hey," that's barely audible over the music. Phil, on the other hand, smiles as Clint sits down across the table from him. It's a relaxed smile, more open than usual, which tells Clint that Phil's already a couple of beers in. And if Phil's a couple of beers in, Natasha and Pepper are probably _several_ beers in.

"Sorry I'm late," Clint says, shrugging out of his jacket. "Client ran late."

"How's business?" Phil asks, which immediately makes Clint smirk at him just because he can.

"The hooking business?" he asks.

Phil doesn't take the bait. "Yes, the hooking business," he says easily, voice free of judgment as always. It will never cease to amaze Clint that Phil's apparently never going to think less of him for how he makes his living.

"Been a little slow, actually," Clint says, shrugging as he crosses his arms. "It's fine, though. It'll pick up again. Always do."

"People do tend to like sex," Phil agrees, and--does he sound a little wistful, there?

"How's _your_ business going?" Clint asks instead of dwelling on it.

"Don't even," Natasha warns. "I hate people. I hate scientists. I hate everyone. I want to punch literally every person at work in the face."

"That seems like an overreaction," Pepper says, leaning back in her chair and draining her glass and sighing heavily. "But fairly accurate. It's been a week."

"It wasn't so bad," Phil says, shrugging.

"You have the patience of a saint," Natasha says, rolling her eyes and standing up. "I'm getting more to drink. Another round? Pepper? Clint?"

They all nod at her, and she leaves the table. Phil shrugs again. "I just don't really mind. And it's not like it'll be any different any other place. People are everywhere."

Clint only has a vague idea what his friends do over at Stark Industries, but he knows it involves a lot of paperwork and trying to deliver messages, data, and information between various departments.

"At least Stark Industries pays us well for the trouble," Phil says.

"Enough," Natasha says, sliding back into her seat and uncurling her arms to set down the beers she was balancing. "Enough talk about work. I'll vomit on this table, I swear. I want to hear about Clint's day."

"That _is_ work," Clint says, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but not _boring_ work," Natasha says, nudging a glass over towards Clint. "Your work is literally having sex with people for money. I want to hear about that. I don't want to hear about how Accounting lost another one of Pepper's spreadsheets."

"I can spread some sheets--" Clint starts in a ridiculous voice, but Natasha silences him with a glare.

"Nobody appreciates my shitty innuendo," Clint grumbles, taking a sip from his beer. "Also, I think you've got a very twisted idea of what prostitution involves."

"Sex with people for money?" Phil asks blandly.

"Well," Clint says, scratching his neck. "Yeah, but also, some of them are really really gross?"

"And _that's_ what we want to hear about!" Natasha says, snapping her fingers, and even Pepper nods in agreement at that.

"Not sure if there is much to tell," Clint says. He's not sure what they're after. "Like, if they're completely repulsive, I just--don't do it? So I don't have any super juicy stories."

"What about weird kinks?" Phil asks, tilting his head in a way that suggests curiosity rather than any actual desire for mockery.

"Hey, not my place to judge," Clint says, which Phil seems to consider for a moment before nodding. "Though I guess this one guy I was seeing for a while had a thing for chocolate sauce."

"Ooh," Pepper says, as she and Natasha both wince. Phil just looks confused.

"Yeah," Clint agrees. When Phil still looks confused, Clint explains, "It was a bitch to get clean afterwards."

"Ah," Phil says, understanding clearly dawning on him, before he snickers. "So what kept you tonight? Chocolate sauce? Whipped cream?"

"Funny," Clint says dryly. "Nah, just ended up taking longer than planned. You know? One of those lays that just goes on and on?"

Phil's smile fades and he snorts into his beer glass. "Yeah, sure," he says sarcastically.

"Phil's going through a bit of a dry spell," Pepper says, smiling reassuringly.

"Dry spell, more like dry year," Phil sighs.

Clint narrows his eyes. "Wait. No? There was that one guy, the--what's his name? Steve?"

"Never got that far with Steve," Phil says, looking slightly disappointed. "He's a nice guy, though, so we're still friends. We're going bowling next weekend."

Clint tries to think back. "Okay, but there was still Audrey, right?"

"That's been like a year and a half," Phil sighs again.

Clint shrugs. "Go out and get laid, then."

Phil's only response is a glare.

"What?" Clint looks at Natasha and Pepper, who both shrug in turn.

"Really?" Phil asks. "Come on. Natasha and Pepper could both be professional models and you're--" He flails one hand briefly across the table at Clint, nearly knocking over an empty glass in the process. "Well, look at you."

Clint blinks, then. He knows he's good looking, but so's Phil, and he'd always thought of that fact as just--something that was. The sun rises in the morning, New York winters are cold, and Phil's hot, just like Natasha and Pepper. They're hot people. He fails to see the problem, here.

"Ah, forget it," Phil sighs, and then looks pitifully to Natasha for help. "This isn't a fun subject anymore, let's talk about something else."

"Nah, wait a sec," Clint says, frowning. "Are you seriously trying to tell me you couldn't find someone in this bar, right now, and get laid if you wanted?"

Phil frowns. "That's not--look, it's just not my style, okay?"

"Some people actually want to date their prospective bed partners," Pepper says, before clinking her glass to Phil's. "And dating..." She trails off and shudders, a sentiment Phil clearly shares if his face is anything to go by.

"Dating sucks," Natasha agrees. "I dated a guy once who took me to Disney on Ice for our first date, and during the intermission asked if I was into puppy play."

"I've done puppy play," Clint shrugs.

Natasha looks both delighted and outraged all at once. "Okay, first of all, that is _totally_ a story I want to hear at a later point, but honestly though. It's not really the best first date material. Plus, Disney on Ice, do I look like I'm into Disney on fucking Ice?"

"I dated Tony once," Pepper muses, which makes both Natasha and Phil choke on their drinks.

"Shut up," Natasha says.

"Swear to god," Pepper laughs. "It was, um. He's very high maintenance."

"Oh my god," Natasha says faintly.

" _Why?_ " Phil asks.

Pepper shrugs and looks distantly out across the bar. "I don't know. Moment of weakness? Plus, he gets laid so much, I figured there had to be something worthwhile there, right?"

Natasha looks expectantly at Pepper. "...and?"

Pepper shrugs and wobbles one hand in the air above the surface of the table. "Eh."

Clint's not sure who Tony is--unless Pepper's talking about Tony _Stark_ , although that would be ridiculous--but he's starting to think more and more that he's never changing career directions.

"Man, you guys make sex sound so complicated," he sighs, leaning back in his chair and drinking the last of his beer. "I've got next round?"

"Sit your ass down," Natasha says. "Phil can get next round. He just got a raise."

"Only a small one," Phil says, but he still stands up. Clint wasn't lying when he said business has been slow lately, so he doesn't object.

"I'll help you carry, though," he says, getting to his feet and following Phil towards the bar. "Unless you've mastered Natasha's trick of carrying a fuckton of drinks at once?"

"Not quite there yet," Phil says with a small smile.

"I don't know how she does it," Clint admits, glancing over his shoulder towards their table, where Natasha and Pepper are in deep conversation again. "She makes it look easy too."

Phil sighs. "She makes everything look easy." There's that wistful sigh again.

Quirking a corner of his mouth upwards in what he hopes is an encouraging expression, Clint nudges Phil's shoulder with his own. "Don't worry, dude. Your dry spell will be over soon."

Phil gives a slight chuckle as they reach the bar, inaudible underneath the music, but Clint can feel it where their shoulders are still pressed together. Phil doesn't look like he has as much faith in that as Clint.

"Seriously," Clint tries again. "How about online dating? Like, OKCupid or Match.com?"

"I don't know," Phil says, looking uncomfortable.

"Grindr?" Clint suggests with a filthy grin.

"Oh god no," Phil says quickly.

"Natasha got any single friends?" Clint asks, to which he gets another glare in return.

"Would you want to date any of Natasha's friends?" Phil asks.

Clint shrugs and concedes the point. "All right, well. I dunno, hire me, then," he jokes.

"Okay," Phil says.

Clint stares.

Phil stares back.

"Um," Clint says.

Phil's eyes grow slowly wider and wider until he looks absolutely mortified.

"I mean," Clint starts, trying to think of something to say. He really had meant it as a joke, but for a second he can see it, images flashing in his mind, Phil underneath him, above him, crawling between Phil's legs and looking up at Phil's face--

"I wasn't--" Phil starts to say, at the same time as Clint says, "Sure, yeah--"

They both stop again and stare at each other, before Clint tries again. "If you're not--"

"I am," Phil interrupts him, and the lighting in the bar is kind of bad, but Clint doesn't think he's imagining the deep blush staining Phil's cheeks. 

Clint's never been the best at compartmentalizing, despite his line of work. He mostly stays afloat on the belief that sex isn't a big deal, it's great, but it doesn't always have to be a whole big _thing_. Clint's never bought into the idea that sex can be better when you have an emotional attachment to people. Now, though, with Phil looking at him like that, he's starting to wonder.

The little voice in his ear telling him this is a terrible idea grows fainter, and something in Clint's brain changes. It's like flipping a switch. _Work._ He leans on the bar, very deliberate, knowing exactly how his body looks when his hip juts out just so, and then he gives Phil a grin, slow and inviting.

Phil swallows heavily.

"Right now?" Clint asks, eyes briefly going towards the hallway leading to the bathrooms.

Phil looks like he doesn't quite know what to say, but Clint's gotten pretty good at reading people's body language over the past few years. Phil's even easier, because Clint _knows_ Phil. And Phil _definitely_ wants to.

Quickly looking back at their table, where Natasha and Pepper are still talking, Clint considers his options. On the one hand, Natasha and Pepper will definitely know what's up. But on the other--well, Clint's never given a shit what people think about him, anyway, and if Phil was any other john, Clint wouldn't say no.

Taking Phil's hand, Clint smiles at him, and then leads him to the restrooms. They come here often enough--their Friday night beer meetup is one of the highlights of Clint's week--that Clint knows they have a larger family restroom to the side. During the daytime, when the restaurant is open, it probably wouldn't be a good idea, but this late at night on a Friday, when only the bar is open? Not a problem. It's been a while since Clint had to actively troll the streets for clients, but he still knows a good location for a quick fuck when he sees one.

The music instantly dims to mostly just dull bass tones when Clint closes the door behind them, and the _snick!_ of the lock seems startlingly loud. Turning to look at Phil, who still looks halfway mortified and halfway horny as hell, Clint decides to go at this this differently. This is Phil. One of his best friends in the world. The standard approach doesn't seem to work that well so far. So going against most of his instincts, Clint tries to put _work_ out of his mind, and just focuses on Phil instead. The blue in Phil's eyes. The line of his jaw. The way his lips part a little as he breathes.

Clint smiles, a for real smile that's all him, and puts a hand on Phil's shoulder.

"Listen, if you don't want to do this, that's fine, Phil. But if you want this, if you want _me_ , I really don't mind, okay? In fact, I'd rather do you than most of my client base." Which sounds like a line, and Phil must think so too, because it gets a shaky laugh from him, but it's true.

"It's true," Clint says, holding his other hand to his chest. "Scout's honor."

"You were never a--" Phil starts.

"The _point_ is," Clint says, smile growing because Phil's starting to look more like himself again. "The point is, I know you, so I know your hygiene's good, I know you're not a raging douchebag, and that alone puts you leagues ahead of most of the people I do for a living. The fact that you're smoking hot is an awesome bonus. Sex with you? Not a hardship, Phil."

Phil takes a deep breath, but there's a slight smile coming back to his face now. "Kind of seems like this is the kind of thing that could get complicated," he says.

"I won't let it," Clint says firmly. Okay, yeah, not good at compartmentalizing, but still. Sex isn't complicated. It isn't. He can totally fuck Phil without things getting complicated. Totally. Watch him.

For the briefest of moments, Phil looks like he might say no, but then his eyes flick down towards Clint's lips, and Phil's breath hitches.

Clint's smile turns into a smirk. Slowly and with great deliberation, he lets his hand run down the length of Phil's body, from his shoulder to his crotch, until he can palm the growing bulge there.

"Like I said," Clint says, taking a step forward to close the gap between them. "Not exactly a hardship." Then he pauses long enough to catch Phil's eye again. "I'll still take your money, though."

Just as he'd hoped, it makes Phil laugh. Hand rubbing across Phil's crotch, Clint leans in to nuzzle Phil's neck, satisfied when the dick under his palm jumps a little and starts straining against the material of Phil's pants.

"This," Phil says, body angling slightly as he leans back against the sink, "seems like the kind of thing you'd make a pun about. Hardship."

"I'll pun later," Clint says, sinking to his knees and unzipping Phil's fly. "I'm working."

Phil's dick is a thing of beauty. And Clint should know, he's seen enough dicks to last him a lifetime. He's cut, a good size, perfect thickness, and curving faintly upwards. Clint's never _minded_ sucking cock, it's part of what makes him a good hooker, but for the first time in longer than he cares to remember, Clint actually feels a sort of urgent desire to have his mouth on someone else's dick, and post haste!

Licking his lips once, Clint looks up at Phil again, just a glance to make sure everything's still okay. Phil's staring down at him with wide eyes, lips parted, and it's the best sight Clint's seen in a long while. Giving him a quick smile, Clint leans in and sucks Phil into his mouth, letting his eyes slip shut in the process.

Above him, Phil sucks in a sharp breath, and then makes a tiny sound, not quite a groan, but almost. Clint wants to smile again, but his mouth is busy, so instead he just wraps a free hand around the base of Phil's dick and starts moving.

Phil's dick is hard and heavy on his tongue, and Clint lets himself drift a little in a way he can't with a regular client. He's with Phil, and he's safe, and that fact alone helps him feel more relaxed. More free to enjoy himself. Pressing his tongue against the ridge of Phil's cockhead, Clint lets himself get lost in the purely physical sensation of cocksucking, head bobbing as he uses his hand to help.

It doesn't take long before Clint's found a rhythm, and he manages to take Phil deeper with each downstroke. The first time his lips hit his fingers at the base of Phil's cock, there's another strangled sound from above him, and it's so hot, Clint decides to just keep doing it. Phil, for his part, is pretty much the best person Clint's sucked in _years_ , he thinks. He doesn't thrust, he doesn't grab Clint's hair or ears, but he lets one of his hands skim carefully along the side of Clint's neck and along his jawline.

Pausing for a moment with Phil all the way in his throat, Clint swallows experimentally a couple of times to see if he can wring more sounds out of Phil, and he's rewarded with an actual groan this time, before Phil's thighs seem to quiver. "C-Clint," he manages, feet shifting a little to find better purchase on the tiled floor.

Clint notes with a sort of detached curiosity that he's half hard in his own pants, which is really damn impressive considering the rounds he went with his last client, less than two hours prior. There's something about Phil though, about the small almost-sounds he makes and the gentle way his fingertips trace along the collar of Clint's t-shirt.

Pulling off Phil's cock completely to take a few big breaths of air, Clint uses his hand to keep jerking him, licking at a string of precome that follows his bottom lip from the head of Phil's cock. He's about to ask if Phil's okay when he notices the look on Phil's face, the way his brow is furrowed, the way his lips curl back just the tiniest bit, and Clint decides to just get back to it.

When he sucks Phil back in, it's with renewed vigor, and he pulls out every trick he knows. He continues to deep throat on every downstroke, and focuses on adding some tongue on every upstroke. His fingers are still closed around the base of Phil's cock, massaging lightly when Clint's lips aren't in the way, and it only takes a few moments before Phil's legs do that quivering thing again and his feet shift. "Clint," he warns, "Clint, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna--"

Clint doesn't typically swallow for non-regulars, but this is Phil, and Clint's not going anywhere. Making a small sound to signalize that it's okay, he just takes Phil all the way in again and focuses on keeping his throat relaxed as Phil grunts above him, hips shifting in an aborted thrust once, twice--and then Phil's whimpering and coming and panting, half breathing Clint's name in the process.

When Clint's sure Phil's done, he pulls back, swallowing as he goes to make sure he got it all, before gasping for breath again.

Above him, Phil's looking vaguely dazed, but he's got a smile tugging on his lips, so Clint smiles back and climbs to his feet. His knees only protest mildly; the tiled floor is harder than what he's used to kneeling on, but his body seems to be holding up well.

"Oh my god, that was good," Phil mutters, and Clint smirks to himself, oddly proud, even though he's always been confident in his cocksucking skills.

Phil tucks himself away while Clint rinses out his mouth and spits in the sink, and once that's done, they end up staring at each other for a few seconds. It's slightly awkward, but not uncomfortable, and they both end up chuckling a little at each other.

"Sorry," Phil says, shaking his head, "I just, I haven't done this before, do I pay you now or...?"

"If you want," Clint says, smiling--and then, not thinking too hard about it, he tilts his head invitingly. "If that's all you wanted."

Phil looks at Clint for a long time, his expression unreadable, but he doesn't look embarrassed anymore. Clint just waits patiently and lets Phil take all the time he needs.

In the end, Phil glances at the door, then meets Clint's eyes head on, a new sort of confidence in his gaze. "I suppose I did just get a raise," he says, and it makes Clint laugh.

"Your place or mine?"

Phil shrugs. "Whichever one is closest."

Clint smiles and gestures towards the door. "All right. Lead the way. Hey, how much shit do you think we'll get from Natasha and Pepper?"

"Like they have any room to talk," Phil scoffs, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "Pepper dated Tony Stark. I feel like that's worse."

Clint sputters. "That _is_ the Tony she was talking about, what the _hell_ \--"

"Yeah," Phil says, rolling his eyes. "I know."

Unlocking the door, Phil opens it to a crack, just enough to let the thrum of the music back into the restroom, before pausing again.

"Not complicated, right?" he asks, as if he's just double checking.

Clint nods and gestures around himself, because what the hell? Did he or did he not just blow Phil in a public restroom, and they seem to be doing okay, don't they? "Of course," he says.

Phil seems satisfied with that, and pushes the door open all the way, holding it open so Clint can follow him out into the bar again. Clint smiles at Phil's back and shakes his head. Seriously. He's just gonna have sex with his friend for money. What could possibly go wrong?

End.


End file.
